The Morning After the Storm

Gray half-lit sky hangs over my hill today, where we are waiting for the sun, hiding in the mist.  It's not as impressive as the bowl of fog I enjoyed at Faith's home.  That fog was thick and white as the sea swelling and sinking in the valley we could see in it's entirety while we sipped our morning tea.  The fog around my house this morning is a quieter, softer, vapor that rises and curls around the trees and doesn't quite hide the sight of the deer who amble up from the grove.  Don't look for the deer in the photo.  I just stood there with my camera in hand and watched them until it was too late to capture their image.  But I can show you where they disappeared.

Living on the Hill ~

Writing on Xanga is unlike writing anywhere else.  I've been doing this for almost two years, but I realized yesterday that very few of the people who read my site these days have been reading for more than a few months.  It seems that in the ebb and flow of Xanga, a complete change of guard has taken place without my notice.  So I hope you will forgive me if you've read these details before, but I'd like to take this morning to introduce myself. 

Hi, I'm Terri.  I live on a hill in Southern Indiana. 

When my husband's company transferred us to this area, we had a chance to decide whether we would continue to live in urban enrivons or try life in the country.  At the time our children were 2 and 4.  I worried about the dangers and the pace of life in the city.  I wanted them to grow up in a place where they had room to run and play, where they could lie on their back and watch the clouds or chase a toad for hundreds of yards without worrying about property lines, traffic, or even whether there would be a toad to chase. 

Even more, I wanted a change in our family lifestyle.  For several years, I'd become increasingly discontent with the compromises necessary for urban or suburban life.  The unavoidable complexity that attached to the conveniences of nearby stores and entertainment began to outweigh the benefit in my mind.  I saw my husband trapped as a wage slave to a corporation with no compunction about moving people like game pieces and then laying them off when their part was finished.  I wondered what would happen to us if that should occur.  How would we live if he lost his job? 

So we set out to find a place where we could put an inexpensive home, surrounded by land we could learn to work in a search for some measure of independence.  Soon after we arrived on the hill, I purchased goats.  From the goats we got milk, cheese and meat.  My husband raised rabbits for meat and we learned that rabbits are the single best source of garden fertilizer on the face of the earth.  We were on our way to escape from the system.

We were seriously derailed in our mission about two years ago.  My parents live just about 700 miles away in Southern Arkansas.  They had modified their home to accommodate the care of my grandmothers.  None of the four of them are in good health.  In the past 2 years all four of them have suffered stroke with varying degrees of negative outcome.  It became apparent that they needed help.  Of course, none of them wanted to be in any kind of assisted living facility, who could blame them?  They wanted the same thing I wanted, independence.  We decided that it was more important to make ourselves available to support them than it was to continue our farming experiment.  I sold my goats so that I would be available to travel when need arose and to stay with my parents until the crisis passed.

You have to understand that by this time, the goats had become far more than livestock.  They were the symbol of our goals.  They were the key to making it all work. 

Since I sold the goats in August of 2001, I've spent literally months at a time in Arkansas.  We nursed my Granny while she lay incapacitated for the last four months of her life.  Since then a continuing succession of illness, and strokes have plagued my parents and I've made that trip to Malvern so many times that the neighbors have assigned me a place in the community. 

Living on the hill has not turned into the life I planned or hoped for when we moved here.  One year a fox ate all my chickens.  Another year, I didn't realize that I should clip the wings of my ducks and they all flew south for the winter.  (Then never came back.)  In the area to the left of the foreground in the photo above, we house deer, wild turkeys, rabbits, and other critters.  I've had my goldfish eaten by a raccoon.  The cat food resulted in a fat happy possum until I realized and moved it indoors.  Last year, long weeks of rain followed by equally long weeks of drought destroyed the garden. 

Five years ago last week, we broke ground to build our home.  When I review the five year plan we devised at that time, I laugh.  I still fret that Tim is trapped in a job that sucks away his time and energy from our family.  I still think that simpler living is a worthy goal.  My new five year plan is to find a publisher for one of the several books I've been working on and to build a front porch for the house.  And to finish the sidewalk. 

April Showers

I know that the cycle of seasons existed before I moved to the country, so I don't understand hwo it is that I never noticed before.  When I lived in the city I was insulated against cold and rain, hot and humid by airconditioning, a schedule of activities performed mostly indoors, and the reliability of utilities that service the suburbs.  Here, where I live more of my day outside than in for much of the year, I'm suddenly for the first time in my life at the mercy of stormfronts, dry spells, and other routine seasonal events. 

My telephone service, never wonderful, becomes maddening during the Spring rains.  Lines that I never noticed at any other home, are carefully gaurded against damp.  But not matter the care, sooner or later, I pick up the phone and find I have no dial tone.  I call the phone company on my cell phone and am told, once again that there is nothing they can do.  It's an old issue. 

For the past two weeks it has been my mission to mow the grass around my house.  Just when I think I'm going to complete the job, we have another rain, and then I have to wait two days before I can resume the project.  After this week, my flowerbed has weeds almost as tall as the rosebushes.  The pond has become murky with the red clay that washes into it.  The area out back, as large as a standard city lot, is still uncut.

I really miss the goats.

It's a wire bound book, lavender on top, green at the bottom with an angel on the cover.  Gold embossed letters say, "If friendship is a sacred treasure, herein lies all my wealth."  Inside I've written names, addresses, phone numbers, email addresses, and then scratched through and written the updated versions after marriages, moves, divorces, births, and amazingly perhaps, only one death.  I've heard it said that a person who has three good friends in a lifetime is doubly blessed.  I wonder how they define good friends?

This week, I've had email correspondence with Faith, who's casual remark helped me solve a problem I've been stuck on for a couple weeks.  I've had two phone calls from Martha just catching up after a couple months in which she's been travelling around mostly out of touch.  This morning, I made arrangements with Mo (Maureen) to meet in Florida and share vacation this summer. 

My friends have encouraged my interests beyond all reason, and probably to the irritation of my husband who wishes that I could be more like "normal" people.  I can't think of anything I could even be interested in talking about that I don't have at least one friend who knows more than I do on the topic.  None of them make me feel that my questions are unwelcome.  All of them have taught me things I couldn't learn from books. 

Some of my friends also happen to be my family.  I didn't realize growing up how rare my family life was, and even now I'm more shocked than accepting when I hear people say that they haven't spoken to a brother or sister in months, or even sometimes years.  My little brother is halfway around the world, and in the past week, I've talked to him three times.  (www.bigzoo.com thank you, thank you for the cheap long distance)

My friends live all over the world, come to think of it.  From Eliza in Colorado, Martha, Sam and Sandy in Minnesota, Maureen in Wisconsin, Faith in Ohio, Natasha in Atlanta, Mary in Virginia, to Yoni in Jerusalem I'm always confused about whether its a good time to call.  No matter what time I call Yoni, he tells me it's 2:00 AM so I don't even try to figure that one out anymore.

I was trying to think how I could categorize my friends.  Truly, I can't.  But if I had to think of broad common ground, they tend to be either crafty or argumentative.  Or both.  I think it would be fun sometime to hold a craft fair/hands-on session with my friends in charge of booths and demonstrations.  You could learn anything from wood carving, to needlework, calligraphy to jewelry design and believe me I've tried them all.  Or if you wanted to talk literature, history, philosophy, etc. just pull up a chair and a coffee cup.  Tell 'em Terri sent you.

Happy ... um Tuesday???

Did you ever have one of those weekends that's so good it spills over onto Monday and you're still tired on Tuesday morning?  My husband had his birthday on Saturday/Sunday.  Happy Birthday, Honey!  He got dinner at Outback Steakhouse, a card and presents from the kids (they gave him the Harry Potter DVD, lucky dog that he is!) and the promise of a present from me.  I've been trying to order his birthday present for a couple weeks now, but the website isn't accepting the order.  You know, it occurs to me that there might be a phone number or some other such means of contacting them, but I'm sticking with what I know.  (He's getting a print of his favorite X-Man character signed by the artist, Julie Bell.)  In the meantime, I gave him a rosebush in lieu of a card.  We are working our way up to a really nice rose garden.

So, I have a pile of books beside my bed and absolutely no interest in reading any of them.  The weather has turned cool and drippy so I can't work outside.  The house is as big a mess as it's been in months, and well, lets just say that if I make sure that we are eating off clean dishes, I'm okay with it.

I've been doing some writing (not a lot), finishing up a crochet project, and generally just being a bum otherwise.  You know what?  I'm real cool with where I am right now.  Oh, I'm sure I'll be appalled here in a few days when I look around and realize how much time I've wasted.  I do that to myself far more often than I'd like to admit considering that I'm way old enough to know better.  I consider the time that I spend doing chores to be productive - useful time.  I get caught up in feeling guilty for the time that I spend doing things just because I want to.  For some reason my obssessive-cumpulsive demon is on holiday.  Maybe he got exorcised at the Easter service when I wasn't paying close attention.  However it happened, while the demon's away ...

So I hope you are all having a marvelous Tuesday.  (It is Tuesday, isn't it?)  I'm thinking that I'm going to go start my day with a bubble bath because that's one of the most decadent things I can imagine.  The kids are settled in playing lego's and they don't need my supervision for that.  Oh, the joys of having your slave driving conscience take a hike. 

I am so Sappy Today

I take a positive delight in my Xanga friends and readers.  I had the thought this morning that I might have inadvertently caused someone to think that yesterday's post was meant to suggest that the Gospel accounts were flawed, or unhistorical.  So I read through the comments braced for the one that would confirm my fear.  But you guys are either extra spiritually enlightened or you've been blessed with the capacity to show abundant grace.  Nobody seems to have taken it that way. 

So I'd like to offer blessings, pick one that makes your heart glad and wear it from me to you with fond affection ~

May the road rise up to meed you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
And the rain fall soft upon your fields,
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.

The Lord bless you and keep you
The Lord make His face shine upon you
And give you peace
The Lord be gracious to you
The Lord turn His face toward you
And give you peace
And give you peace forever.

May your life today be simple, sincere and serence;
May it be that no thought of dscontent, anxiety,  
   discouragement or impurity rise to trouble you,
May you have cheer, generosity, compassion and the silence 
   of joy before the wonder of the earth;
May your life today be a blessing you will remember.

Choose not to be a common man, it is your right to be uncommon -
Seek opportunity not security, you do not have to be a kept citizen, dulled by having the state look after you.
Take the calculated risk, it is your legacy to dream and to build, to fail and to succeed.
Prefer the challenges of life to the guaranteed existence, the thrill of fulfillment to the calm of utopia,
Trade not your freedom for beneficence nor your dignity for a handout,
It is your heritage to stand erect, proud, and unafraid. to think and act for yourself, enjoy the benefit of your labor, and to face the world and boldly say: This I have done.   _adapted from the Creed of Dean Alfange

Look to this day for it is life,
   The very life of life
In its brief course lie all the realities and truths of existence
   The joy of growth
   The splendor of action
   The glory of power

For yesterday is but a memory
And tomorrow is only a vision

But today well lived makes every yesterday
    A memory of happiness
And every tomorrow
    A vision of hope
Look well therefore to this day.
                        Ancient Sanskrit poem

Good Friday -

"Doesn't it seem to you that Easter is awfully late this year?"

Do you know how the date of Easter is calculated?  Or why it's different on different calendars?  Easter is the first Sunday, after the first full moon, after the Vernal Equinox.  Eastern Orthodox calculation is based on the Julian Calendar which doesn't conform strictly to astronomical reality and sets the vernal equinox at dates that get slightly more off as time passes.  For this reason Eastern Orthodox celebration of Easter is as much as four weeks later than the Western tradition. 

There has long been a scholarly controversy among theologians and historians regarding the events of the Christian holy week which observes important events in the last week of Jesus' earthly ministry before his execution.  On what day did what happen?  What is the Day of Preparation mentioned in the Gospel records?  If Jesus celebrated Pesach (Passover) with his disciples the night before the crucifixion, why do the gospels record that the chief priests had not yet had their own Pesach?  Was Jesus crucified on a Friday?  Have you ever had the thought that we should be able to check the calendar for the first century and just figure out which year had the days of Passover falling as described in the gospels and then know which year the Crucifixion took place?

Some of these questions have answers and some may never be known.  First century Judaism much like 20th century Christianity was comprised of multiple "denominations" each of which calculated it's own calendar.  The Emperor Constantine laments in a letter to the Churches following the Council of Nicea that many Jews kept two Pesachs in one year in order that they would get at least one of them right.  The celebration of Passover is set in the Torah as the 14th day of Nisan.  The Hebrew calendar is a lunar based calendar so Nisan begins on the evening of the full moon.  As mentioned above, the Julian calendar which many Jews used in the first century is a solar calendar which sets the equinox and full moon days without strict regard for the actual astronomical occurrence of these events.  To further complicate matters, one sect of first century Jews (The Essenes) celebrated Pesach by a different and even more complicated set of rules to determine the date. 

Early in Christianity, a disagreement arose over whether it was appropriate to end the Passover fast according to the Jewish Calendar which could result in Easter falling on a weekday or whether the fast should always end on a Sunday.  When I say early in Christianity, I mean that the first reference to alternative methods of calculating the dates are noted as a problem in the year 120 ce.  That would be less than a century into Christian practice and approximately 50 years after Christianity's split from Judaism.

Are you starting to sense that more than one scholarly career could and has been made on the attempt to sort out all the tangles?  My good friend, Yoni, is a scholar living in Jerusalem who's expertise is Judaism in the First Century.  He and I had a conversation about the events of holy week and whether or not they corresponded to the assumptions of later Christianity - by which I mean us today.  He laughed and said, well, there are scholars here [at Hebrew University] who argue that Jesus was crucified as early as Tuesday, some who say it was as late as Thursday, but no one suggests that it took place on a Friday. 

Knowing Me

I'm a good Mom.  Really.  My kids are healthy, happy, growing and becoming pretty cool people that I enjoy having in my house.  I suppose that's a good thing since they are probably going to be here for at least the next decade.  But of course there's always room for improvement in my parenting.  Have you ever noticed that the day you stop trying to do better everything kind of falls apart?  Or maybe that's just me. 

Anyway, I took a serious look at me a few years back to see what it is in my character and natural inclinations that I'm going to have to work hard to overcome if my kids are going to get as much as they deserve.  You know what I discovered?  I a smotherer.  I hover around and do entirely too much for them.  Now I'm not saying that it's wrong to be there and meet their needs, but I was doing so much that they weren't able to stretch themselves and learn new ways of being independent.  To me independence in a child signals that they aren't being "taken care of" in the way they should be.  (I didn't say it was a rational belief, just that this is the way it strikes me in my house.)  I had to make myself a rule, "Don't do things for kids that they can do for themselves."

I'm hindered in my attempt to find balance in that I don't subscribe to the goal of raising completely independent children.  I want my kids instead to learn interdependence.  It seems to me that when I was a teen especially trying to find my own place, I had the choice of either being dependent or independent - no middle ground.  I want my kids not only to be able to feel needy - but needed.  I want them to know that our family gets stronger when they get stronger.  That they have very real and necessary strengths to bring.  A family is all about reciprocal relationships.  There isn't any point in any of us pretending like we don't need each other and I'm always puzzled by people who will say that.  "Well I don't need her, I choose to be in this relationship because I enjoy being with her, but if that ever changes . . . well, I didn't ever really need her to be a whole person."  Come on, you know people who talk like that.  I can't be the only one they move in next door to.

I need Tim.  He provides a sense of balance to my life that I desparately need.  Without him I wouldn't be the person I am.  He smooths my rough edges and talks me down from the high ledges (is that a song or just silly).  Tim trades his labor for the money we use to buy the life we want to have.  If it weren't for him, Michael would have to go to school regardless of his learning diability because I couldn't go to work and homeschool my son at the same time.  Our family has (I think) a reputation for generosity.  I promise you that this would not be the case if it weren't for Tim's soft heart.  He is the first to notice when help is needed (and the family joke is that he sends me to do it.)  He needs me to accomplish the service he wants to provide.  I'm aware as I go to Arkansas to clean, cook, vaccuum, and care for the "old folks" in whatever capacity they need, that it's Tim who makes it possible for me to do that. 

My kids are too young to start thinking about turning over adult responsibility to them, but you can bet that as they mature and develop their strengths, I'm going to take advantage of those strengths.  Why should I do it just because I'm the adult if they can do it better?  As an example of this, I see my friend's son who is now 15 years old.  He loves to tinker with machines.  For the past three years, he has done repairs on lawn mowers, the farm tractor, his mom's dryer, almost anything mechanical that has a problem he can fix it.  I have another friend who thinks that's terrible because his mother doesn't pay him the going rate for repair services.  Certainly his work has value.  But who is it valuable to?  Only to his mother?  I'd say that he performs a valuable function for his family.  The whole family benefits from his labor and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he makes a positive contribution. 

Now here's my secondary motive.  It's almost a given in our culture that teens will rebel against their parents.  But do you realize that this is a relatively new wrinkle in the social fabric?  Rebellious teens before the 1950's were the rare exception to the norm.  It's possible that teens were so repressed and oppressed that they never felt powerful enough to defy their parents.  But I rather doubt that's the complete explanation.  Before 1950 we were largely a rural nation.  Kids grew up on farms where their labor was necessary for the family's success and survival.  Those kids knew they were needed.  I'm not saying that was a perfect system, but there's no disputing that the differences between life then and now are real and documentable. 

So where am I going with this?  I wnat my son to know that when his legs are finally long enough to operate the controls of the riding mower, I'm not going to pay him to "help" me.  I'm going to expect him to contribute because that's what family members do.  We each contribute our abilities and strengths to the benefit of all.  No one is more needy than the person who isn't needed.  I'm not planning to raise needy people.  Even if I have to stand in front of my mirror every day and tell myself - "A good mother lets her son make his own peanut butter sandwich."

Inheritance

"... Oh, yeah, great Uncle Bloodworth even sailed across the Atlantic with Mark Twain.  Then when he died, he left a million dollars to the American Bible Society."

I enjoy genealogical research.  My particular interest is scouting out the stories about my ancestors.  I was disappointed that the early rumor Susan B. Anthony was a great Aunt of mine can't be substantiated.  (My ancestor, Elizabeth Anthony, came from the same general area and it's possible that she was a distant relation, but nothing I've been able to confirm.)  Civil War stories interest me and we have several good ones that go beyond the stereotype of brother against brother, although we have that, too.  My people at least for the past 200 years have been hard-working dirt poor farmers in the hills of Tennessee and Arkansas.  Not a decent horsethief in the lot to liven up the telling.

So when I get together with other genealogical enthusiasts, I'm fascinated by the stories they've uncovered in the search for our roots.  The above quote is from a particularly wonderful tale of a rascally fellow who wrote abominable poetry and engaged in criminal self-promotion.  He even erected a memorial to his mother on which his own name appears in letters more than twice as large as hers.  He had sufficient wealth to support his eccentric lifestyle and then some.  But when he died, the disappointed family learned that he'd betrayed them one more time on the altar of self-conceit. 

The gift of a million dollars would raise eyebrows in contemporary America where homes that cost a quarter million dollars are common to every community.  Over one hundred years ago that was an astronomical and shocking amount.   I wonder if Uncle Bloodworth paused to consider the financial advice of the Bible his gift would pay to print and distribute.  The Bible has so much to say about money and our relationship to our money the number of verses that discuss financial principles outnumber the verses on faith and prayer combined.  

Obviously, it would be impossible to discuss every bit of financial advice and monetary ethic covered by the 66 documents that comprise the Protestant Bible.  Even the subject of inheritance is broad, but I think I can hit the high points.  First of all the purpose of a monetary inheritance is provision for family.  The contemporary notion that my money is my own and I can do with it as I please, is completely absent from any Biblical text on the subject.  A father is not allowed to spend his son's inheritance.  Further according to the Talmud, a will that is written contrary to the Torah (law as found in Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy) is void.  For example, "If a man declared, "so and so is my son" but shall not inherit an equal portion with his brothers, his words have no force because he made a provision contrary to Torah.  Son and daughter are alike except that if a son is first-born he may have a double portion of the father's estate."  This double portion is not for the purpose of showing favor to the eldest, but because the eldest is required to assume responsibility for the well-being of the extended family and will need extra resources for the task.

An inheritance is to be considered the family reserve to care for the sick and the elderly.   Scripture severely condemns the man who fails to provide for this function.  "if anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an infidel."  "those of his household" in the context of the time not only refers to extended family, but also servants and employees dependent upon the head of the house for their livelihood and sustenance.

The second purpose for an inheritance is to ensure that the family will have a home.  "House and riches are the inheritance of fathers, and a prudent wife is from the Lord."  Yesterday, I wrote about my neighbors who set the example that "the money isn't the point."  One of their goals for accumulating money was to assist the children in the purchase of a first home.  Many young couples today begin their marriage with a crushing load of debt from student loans and mortgages even if they have been able to avoid the trap of consumer debt.  The Bible warns against the brutal slavery of debt and has harsh words for anyone who could prevent a family member entering into debt for the necessities of life but chooses not to assist in providing for those needs.  Can you imagine the difference to our lives if we didn't have to face that 30 year mortgage?

Wealth is to be used for education and family business.  Schools certainly existed in New Testament times and history teaches that the overwhelming majority of Jewish boys from about 400 BC attended school until at least age 12.  However, from the beginning to the end, the Bible places primary responsibility for educating children on the family.  It is parents who begin the process of instructing children and who are held accountible for overseeing the work of qualified teachers to whom they may delegate the task.  Family industry is encouraged in Biblical texts with the accumulated wealth distributed in the manner practiced by my neighbor's children.  Each "employee" has a wage to meet his or her needs, but the excess is to be used in a manner agreed upon by all.

In the Bible there are no aid socieities, no charitable donations, and no welfare.  The family is the social unit given responsibility for providing idustry, employment, and assistance to those in the community who have needs.  It occurs to me that under this system we would develop a strong sense of both compassion and justice.  You develop compassion when you help the one in need, but you don't pay for his luxury at the expense of your children's need.  Our culture has certainly changed over the course of 1900 years since the canon of Scripture was completed, but some things have not changed.  It is far easier to write a check (or assume someone else will) than to act directly on social ills.  The single exception I can find to this rule is the operation of the early churches as described in the book of Acts.  One of the persecutions described against early Christians is economic.  They lost their jobs.  Sister churches sent monetary and other provision to the congregations who had more needy than they could handle from their meager resources. 

Uncle Bloodworth may have had admirable motives although I'm tempted to speculate that he hoped his large gift would buy him a place in heaven.  Jesus condemned the religious man who said to his family, "Anything of mine you might have been helped by, I've given to God ... thus you invalidate the word of God for the sake of your tradition, you are hypocrites.  Rightly did Isaiah prophecy against you saying, 'This people honors me with their lips but their heart is far from me.  In vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the precepts of men.' ... Then the disciples came to him and said, "Did you know those religious guys were offended by what you said?" and Jesus responded, "every plant that my father did not plant shall be rooted up.  Leave them alone, they are blind guides of the blind and if a blind man guides a blind man they shall both fall into a pit."

I know Christians who dream of doing great works for the Lord.  They would love to be in Uncle Bloodworth's position and to give large sums of money to the "Lord's work."  I imagine that the Lord feels about them the way I do when I ask my children to do a small simple task, and they try to please me by doing a large and complicated one instead.  I try to appreciate their motivations, but I'd have been happier if they'd resisted the urge to make French Toast in the pop-up toaster. 

What do women talk about?